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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106180">i’ve lost a piece of me in you (but you’ve lost all your past)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late'>far2late</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Festival, Grooming, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Other, Quackity Centric, Sad, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), ambiguous ending, fuck i forgot how to tag, like blink and you’ll miss it, mentioned junkyjanker, mentor, no beta i never beta ever, quackity is having a bad time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:55:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Quackity felt a wave of emotion flood him for a moment, staggering back to lean against the tree he had taken cover under, laughing slightly. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” He giggled, letting the bow fall out of his hand, leaning forward to let his head rest in his hands, looking up to Tommy, who had slowly gotten closer. </p>
<p>“What- what’re you doing all the way out here, huh? Don’t you have vice-president stuff to be doing?” Quackity barked out a humourless laugh, wiping his face and staring at his hand, blood trickling down his palm.” </p>
<p>or </p>
<p>quackity has some realizations.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>397</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i’ve lost a piece of me in you (but you’ve lost all your past)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Quackity’s dull eyes set itself upon the lands of Manberg, eyes blank and unfeeling as he let his gaze wander across the gray skies and barren streets. It wasn’t that surprising, considering the events of the day beforehand. Quackity was still trying to understand what happened himself, though the answer was clear as day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo had been hurt. Nearly killed, really, by one of the most powerful people that had stepped foot on their lands. And by someone on his side, no less. Quackity couldn’t see beneath the pink mask of the man, but he was sure Techno was at least as unsure about it as he was himself. If anything, it was probably good that he had listened to Schlatt in the first place if Punz and Bad’s immediate responses to Tommy and Wilbur showing up were used as an example of what would happen if he refused. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As strong as the king was, he had none of his political standings upon Manberg territory, and he was sorely outnumbered. It was smart of him. Even if Quackity had gotten caught in the crossfire at the moment, he could vaguely remember Tommy pearling in and grabbing Tubbo before getting out of there as fast as he could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how Tommy would take Techno’s betrayal of them. Schlatt seemed convinced that the man would immediately come over to their side after the show of respect that was apparently shown at the festival. Wasn’t much of a festival in the end, though the short moments beforehand with the dunk tank were at least a little enjoyable for the citizens. Quackity hadn’t been able to participate, mostly due to his fear of the king. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had a history with the man, even if he might not have remembered it as well as Quackity himself did. The man was around twenty at that time, if he had been remembering right, and he was simply a teen who had been roped in due to a lack of contestants. Techno had slaughtered the competition in the weekly hunger games matches, and eventually took his claim to the crown afterwards, the event dying down after the throne had been claimed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing more terrifying than being tagged by Techno in a game of hunger games, many could attest. Quackity still had a scar from it on the side of his jaw, stretching to the corner of his left eye and down to his mouth, barely cutting over his lip. He hadn’t enjoyed that day, not at all. It was a quick lesson in fear and respect that he hadn’t forgotten for a long time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Running from the kingdom was the smartest thing he could think of at the time, though he didn’t account for the man simply not remembering him. Quackity wasn’t one to stop and wait for the danger to approach him first, instead of taking the chance he needed to get away when he could. It kept him alive so far, though it had driven him to Schlatt in the end. His few allies he had met over the roads had slowly abandoned him at the sight of the ram that came along with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They had the right idea, Quackity thought aimlessly, rubbing his side carefully as he prodded at a yellowing bruise under his suit. The netherite armour he had been gifted was set up against the wall of his small room, light barley peeking in through the curtains of his small window. What little light there was fell upon the mirror in his room, lighting up a sliver of his face in the process. He continued to button up his shirt, leaving the suit jacket behind in place of a comfortable sweater that would feel less uncomfortable under his new armour. It was heavy but worth it to keep on him at a time like this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The citizens were unpredictable, Quackity reasoned. He ignored the fact that a kind ruler wouldn’t have this problem, slipping on the chest plate to the best of his abilities, leaving the helmet on his dresser as he strapped on the leg pieces. He could still move his legs properly, the armour leaving a small gap for his knees so he could be as mobile as possible. It was a nice addition, Quackity noted as he pulled on the steel-toed boots. He left the helmet behind as he made his way to the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His arms and sides were still in pain from the night before, ribs taped up and arm in a tight cast under his shirt. He didn’t want to leave himself vulnerable in any way, not after seeing how unpredictable Manberg was now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He paused at the entrance, eyes flickering to his old weapons nailed up and displayed on the wall. They weren’t nearly as strong as the gear that the rest of the country seemed to have amassed, and Quackity was rusty at best, but there was just a sudden wave of nostalgia that he couldn’t shake. Memories of a friend dressed in blue with enthusiasm that could tackle a full-grown man. Memories of blood and accidents and screaming and not being </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast enough- </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He slung the quiver over his armour, bow held by his side as he made his way out of the home. It was the safest he had felt since he had found Schlatt on the outskirts of Manberg, but terrifying at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he made his way over to the White House, past the podium and the seats that he lined up with Tubbo only two days before, he could feel the bile rise in his throat. There were still bloodstains and gunpowder splattered against the ground, mixing with loose stones as Quackity stumbled away from it. He passed by the stage with Schlatt’s throne, eyes ending up wandering to where the yellow concrete once was and spotting more blood, gunpowder, glittering dust and little lumps that he couldn’t tell had been part of Tubbo’s body or not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity stumbled over to a bush nearby, throwing up behind it. He panted for a minute, eyes wide as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A minute later, and he had shaken off his queasiness, returning to his original goal. As he made it over the hill, he was greeted with Schlatt standing outside the White House he had made, pickaxe in hand. It looked as though he had been waiting for something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he brightened up as he saw Quackity, he realized he was waiting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He slung the pickaxe over his shoulder, clapping a hand on Quackity’s shoulder, hard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Quackity!  Great seeing you, Mr. Vice President. Beautiful day, isn’t it? Without all the riff-raff,” He grinned, Quackity nodding out of pure habit, not registering the words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir, yessir,” He replied, pulling away from the hand on his shoulder. It had been pressing down on an older bruise, and he knew Schlatt had known that. He had been the one to give it to him, after all. Quackity furrowed his eyebrows as Schlatt pulled away from him as well, moving to begin chipping away at the White House walls at an incredibly fast rate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Woah, what the fuck? What the fuck are you doing to my White House?” Schlatt looked over to him for a moment before continuing his work, not slowing at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an eyesore, I’m getting rid of it.” Quackity couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing, not really. Schlatt threw him a pickaxe as well, the tool landing by his feet as he stared, dumbfounded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t just fucking take down my White House and expect me to be okay with it! We’re supposed to talk about these things, what the fuck, Schlatt?” Righteous anger flooded through Quackity, expelling his fear of consequences from the older man as he argued. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>White House? I thought it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>mi casa es su casa</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Schlatt asked, an easy-going smile on his face, though his tone of voice was anything but. Quackity scowled, grip tightening on his bow as he stood up straighter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always fucking do this, y’know? We’re supposed to be partners in this, I’m not some fucking lackey you can push around like Punz and Tub-“ He cut himself off at the last word, continuing as Schlatt picked away at the walls. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>without me! If it weren’t for my fucking votes you wouldn’t be here! Half the people don’t even fucking like you! They hate your guts! Do you think Tubbo and Niki are going to be the only ones to plan an assassination? The way you’re going, you’re going to end up dead in a fucking ditch if you don’t just listen to me once in a while!” Schlatt turned back to him, an expression he couldn’t read on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like traitor-talk to me, Quackity. Something you want to tell me? Or are you just going to keep fucking complaining like you always do?” Quackity reeled back a little at the words, the other man continuing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all you fucking do, you know? Fucking cry and complain and cry and act like a stupid baby. Do you think I couldn’t do this without your help? You think I need you? You’re severely overestimating your importance.” Schlatt swung at the window, bashing it in with a loud shattering noise. Quackity moved to grab his arm, shoving him away bodily as he stood between him and the White House. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m being fucking serious! Just fucking quit it, stop breaking it. I made this, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Would you just fucking listen for-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A slap echoed throughout the empty lands, One side of Quackity’s face red with a cut under his eyes slowly bleeding as he flexed his jaw experimentally, looking back up to Schlatt with wide eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno what’s making you act out this much all of a sudden, but do I need to teach you this lesson again?” Schlatt grabbed the front of his shirt, Quackity shrinking back reflexively with a jolt of fear going through him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are not my equal. You are not someone who can challenge me, you are not as important as you think you are. You will go back home and cry about your stupid fucking White House, or you can fucking leave. Because you know what? It wouldn’t make a difference. I couldn’t care less if you ended up dead in a fucking ditch, I couldn’t care less if Wilbur stabbed the shit out of you, I couldn’t give less of a fuck if you tried to ‘overthrow me,’ because you can’t do shit. You will amount to nothing without me, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing WITHOUT ME.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity stood in his grasp, frozen at the words as Schlatt released him, throwing him back as he stumbled a bit. “Get the fuck out of my sight, Quackity. You’re pathetic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt wasn’t at all like the man he had met all those years back when he had been running from the Capital. The Schlatt that Quackity remembered was funny, was respectful, made him laugh, and smile occasionally. Schlatt kept him safe in the nights when he was still just a stupid teen with no experience and it had finally caught up to him. He was his mentor, his friend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity couldn’t recognize the man that was standing in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He notched an arrow in his bow, aiming at the man as he started working away at the stairs, aim impeccable despite the time he had taken away from using the weapon. It curved into his hand, familiarity coursing through him as he set his aim onto Schlatt. The man turned back to him to be greeted with the arrow notched right at his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed loudly, Quackity’s hands trembling as he drew himself up to full height. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on, fucking shoot me then! Little pussy, I know you’re not gonna do it,” Schlatt cackled to himself, continuing his destruction of the White House. “Just go off and cry like you always do, Quackity, I don’t have time for this-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt cut himself off with a jolt, stumbling forward the slightest bit. He sighed, eyes half-lidded as he reached behind him with a long arm, hand curling around the arrow embedded in the back of his neck and yanking it out of the skin, golden-red blood spilling out of the wound before it slowly stitched itself up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity’s eyes widened, stumbling back as he tightened his grip on the arrow. When Schlatt turned back to him, his eyes were tinged red and the pupils were near slivers, tilted horizontally and burning. His voice came out as a near-growl, inhuman. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, fat load of shit that did. Get out of my sight before I do something you won’t come back from.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity obliged, scrambling away from the White House as fast as his feet could take him. Tears were burning in his eyes as he fled, fog obscuring his vision until he could barely see two meters ahead of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After about half-an-hour of running, he finally felt safe enough to slow down. His breaths came in gasps, panting as he leaned against a tree. Quackity winced as he laid a hand on his ribs, which were burning now after the long trek through the terrain of the forest. He was unfamiliar with the forest, having not ventured out of Manberg in the year he had been there. There was no chance he would easily find his way home now, and he was just grateful he had the insight to bring most of his armour and a weapon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity heard a rustle from ahead of him and he squinted, looking through the canopy of trees. He easily recognized a familiar red and white shirt, paired with blond hair and immediately scrambled to his feet, bow held out in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get the fuck away!” He shouted through the flora, watching Tommy stop in his tracks, hands raised in surrender. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright, Big Q? What’re you doing all the way out here?” Quackity didn’t relax his stance, ignoring the ache in his arm as he notched another arrow, pointing it towards Tommy shakily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down! I just want to talk,” Tommy reassured, sheathing his sword slowly so Quackity could see the movement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take off- take off all your fucking armour,” Quackity demanded, voice shaky as his eyes burned, bow still held up high. Tommy did as he said, albeit reluctantly, leaving him with nothing but his regular clothes. He looked normal, almost. Like he wasn’t a teenager caught up in a war against a Demi-god and his life hadn’t been torn apart by politics. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity felt a wave of emotion flood him for a moment, staggering back to lean against the tree he had taken cover under, laughing slightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” He giggled, letting the bow fall out of his hand, leaning forward to let his head rest in his hands, looking up to Tommy, who had slowly gotten closer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What-what're you doing all the way out here, huh? Don’t you have vice-president stuff to be doing?” Quackity barked out a humourless laugh, wiping his face and staring at his hand, blood trickling down his palm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ex-vice president.” He corrected. “I quit.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t look nearly as surprised as Quackity thought he would have. A thought flitted across his mind, but he couldn’t be bothered to follow up on it. God, he was so tired. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened, then?” Quackity hung his head, palms facing up on his legs as he stared at the blood dotting his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot, I think,” Quackity said at last. “Three years worth of things that I should’ve been more careful of. God, I’m so fucking…” he trailed off, shaking his head as he rubbed at his eyes with the clean bit of his hand. Tommy looked a little uncomfortable where he sat by Quackity. When did he get that close, anyway? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what are you gonna do now?” Tommy asked, voice neutral in comparison to the anger that had usually fueled him through wars and betrayals and near-deaths. The same anger that fueled him to fight against two Demi-gods and nearly win, two-for-two. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity breathed in shakily, eyesight blurring as he looked up from his hands, wiping at his eyes furiously to try and stop the onslaught of tears. He yanked the beanie off his head and buried his face in it, muffling his sniffling and drying his tears at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The past three years of his life had been some of the most stressful he had ever had. He had no one to rely on but Schlatt, other friends slowly leaving him over the course of a couple of months. The Demi-god had an aura about him that made it a hard task to stay with him and not feel so uneasy that you wanted to run as soon as he so much as looked at you. He had been one of the only ones to stick by his side, loyal to this end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Only for what? Bruises that he couldn’t stop counting, that mapped his body and were replaced the moment they started to yellow? For screaming and shouting and arguing at every footstep he so much had placed in the wrong spot on the path? For taking an arrow for him only to be beaten for being slow to spot the threat in the first place? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was… Quackity wasn’t cut out for this any longer, he realized. He was slowly decaying under the hands of Schlatt, slowly getting pulled into a black hole of war and blood and fire and screaming, and he’d been on death's door the moment he took Schlatt’s hand at the path they had met at so long ago. Schlatt had fucked him over the moment they had locked eyes and he had been none the wiser. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, if Quackity was going to hell, he sure as fuck was going to take Schlatt down with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to fucking kill Schlatt.” He said at last. Tommy nodded once, getting to his feet. He held out a hand to Quackity, who took it as an invitation to get moving and stood up straight, still getting towered over by Tommy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’ve got something you ought to see. Come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity followed, leaving behind a ragged blue beanie and a bond of blood broken in the throes of war. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>speedran this after seeing tommy’s latest vod, hope u enjoy &lt;3 dunno if ill continue it</p></blockquote></div></div>
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